


soldier you gotta let things go

by fitzandjemma



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Bughead Secret Santa, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 11:37:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,282
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17243549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fitzandjemma/pseuds/fitzandjemma
Summary: I was given the Bughead Secret Santa prompt: Betty dealing with Hal being the Black Hood and Jughead being supportive/ protective while she does so.Betty had pictured herself as one of those who had followed leads, interrogated witnesses and ultimately brought the killers to justice. She’d never seen herself as the unsuspecting family members they’d left behind, the ones who’d never known, the ones forced into new identities and lives in order to escape the hounding.





	soldier you gotta let things go

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wolfandthief](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfandthief/gifts).



> This is for my Bughead Secret Santa wolfandthief! Hope you like and thanks for waiting until literally the last day for it!

America hadn’t seen a serial killer story this good since the Green River Killer, Ted Bundy, or John Wayne Gacy. These were all men whose crimes Betty had poured over, fascinated by their twisted psyches and the ways they had been caught. She’d pictured herself as one of those who had followed leads, interrogated witnesses and ultimately brought the killers to justice. She’d never seen herself as the unsuspecting family members they’d left behind, the ones who’d never known, the ones forced into new identities and lives in order to escape the hounding. 

Of course, in the case of Hal ‘the Black Hood’ Cooper she had investigated him relentlessly. But in the end it was easier for the media to portray her as an innocent; her pastel colour scheme and pretty face fitting her easily into the stereotype of a helpless victim. 

The story of her father was sensational in exactly the way that drew in viewers to the daily news and distracting enough to pull attention away from any more complicated or politically charged news stories. This meant that her life was now under siege. Constantly. She could hardly leave the house for the barricade of journalists, cameras, microphones, and news vans. She couldn’t go on social media because she followed mostly true crime accounts who had all turned their attention back upon her. Her phone, already now a place of trauma, chimed with the notification that her favourite podcast had updated with an episode titled ‘The Black Hood: What Did He Do and What Happens Next?’. Betty couldn’t adequately express the overwhelming surge of emotions forced upon her at every given moment. There was no respite, no quiet and no healing. 

Her home itself was, for many days, an active crime scene crawling with cops and inaccessible to her. Luckily in that initial period she’d been so concerned for and wrapped up in Jughead and his recovery that she’d had adequate distraction from the chaos that was now her life. She hadn’t needed to go home, sleeping in hospital chairs and even for one night on the trailer floor next to the bed containing her bruised boyfriend. 

Once he’d started to mend physically did she realise that she herself hadn’t begun to emotionally. She’d returned to her large, cold house with her erratic mother. It was only then that Betty realised what a national phenomena the case had become. 

She spent her days in a catatonic state, half watching television, snoozing occasionally, and only eating when food was physically placed in front of her. It felt like her entire being had gone numb trying to protect itself from the trauma of the past few months. Her usually spotless room became a mess of clothes and wrappers swamping her floors. Her life had become directionless and empty. As the trial begun the barrier of reporters outside her home only grew. She had become a depressed and PTSD riddled Rapunzel of her previously idyllic white picket fence home. 

She still cared deeply about Jughead. It was the only emotion she felt sometimes. But with her phone a toxic wasteland of unimaginable horror and her home inescapable she could not see him through his recovery. Her mother would bring her news of him she had extracted from FP. That he was doing good. He was recovering. He missed her, but understood. He hoped to see her soon. 

She always liked hearing that.

What was left of her life continued on in this way for a long number of days, though she did not keep track of how many. There was finally a break in her routine one night when she woke up to hear her window slide open. Her immediate reaction was panic. It was her father, here to finish the job and kill her. Betty bolted upright and before she could scream there was a hand clamped over her mouth. She jerked her head wildly upwards to escape it and saw- Jughead. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, a little out of breath. He was still covered in scrapes but looked much better than the last time she had seen him. “I thought if I came in the middle of the night the news people outside your house would be gone. And I couldn’t go another second without seeing you.” He gazed at her with an intensity she’d never seen in him before. “I texted you that I was coming on the off chance you’d see it,” he added lamely. 

“I- I didn’t,” she said, still slightly confused and unused to talking to another person, “but I’m so glad you’re here. I’ve missed you.”

“I missed you too,” he said, hugging her towards him on the bed. “So very very much.” 

“I’m so sorry I haven’t been there for you throughout your recovery,” she confessed. “How are you feeling? Did the stitches-”

“Hey hey hey,” he interrupted, “I’m fine, don’t worry about me. What you’ve been dealing with is unimaginable. Please, for once, just focus on your own wellbeing. I know you have so much empathy and you  _ care _ so much and I love you for it. But for now, it’s okay to be your own first priority, okay?”

Betty lifted her head from where it had settled on his chest to look him in the eyes. Her vision was blurred somewhat from tears. Her whole life so much had been expected from her, to be a perfect girl-next-door Nancy Drew who looked after everyone in her life. She had never before been told to lift the burdens weighing on her shoulders. 

“Oh Jug,” she whispered, voice thick with emotion, “that’s just what I needed to hear right now.” 

He held her for the rest of the night, keeping the nightmares at bay. She finally felt like she wasn’t alone anymore. 

There would be many more nights where he held her in this way and she would soak his shoulder with her tears. Eventually she would tell him everything about that night and the subsequent trial and media attention. He would listen for hours and keep her grounded. 

Jughead was able to scare the press away from Betty’s house by setting the Serpents on them. Their tires were slashed, equipment broken, and the more tenacious reporters threatened at knifepoint. Jughead wasn’t proud of the use of violence but he knew now that he would not let anything stand in the way of the wellbeing of those he loved, Betty most of all. Once they were gone she grew able to leave the house. Just for five minutes at a time at first, until eventually she felt able to go on long walks with Jughead, hand in hand and talking about whatever they felt like with ease. 

By the time summer vacation was over and they all entered their Junior year she felt almost good again. Her life would never be the same and her mother had turned to the craziness of the farm in her own recovery. She was still contacted by the press and true crime junkies against her will, but to a much lesser extent. 

Betty finally felt like herself again, centered in her own body and the master of her own soul. She could laugh and she could command a room. She had clawed through her trauma herself, doing the work that no one else could. But ultimately having Jughead as an unconditional support had made the job immeasurably easier. 

They still had hard times ahead of them, with Riverdale acting as a magnet for shady business dealings, murder, and cults. But Betty Cooper had been through the fire and with the support of Jughead the two could take on anything. 

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from the song Soldier by Trixie Mattel and I highly recommend listening to it, especially when you feel overwhelmed or overworked.


End file.
